I'd done it.
I'd finally accepted my fate. I'd proclaimed my identity to the world and now I'd done it. I'd doomed myself for all eternity. I stood there, still staring at the place where the crossbow-wielding maniac had been standing only seconds before, staring into the middle distance feeling utterly devoid of all emotion. Now I had no choice, I really had to accept my destiny. I was the last of the Van Helsing line, the last of my blood. I was the only one left to carry on the legacy.
Something was happening behind me, but I didn't feel it. I was numb, still in shock at what I'd done. I think someone was trying to talk to me, calling my name and shaking my shoulder, I didn't know who. I didn't care either, there were more important things on my mind.
Like how I now have to devote my life to destroying all the dark creatures in existence.